


Repairs

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2008785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream shows an unusual interest in Windblade’s weapon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repairs

**Author's Note:**

> Written in May 2014.
> 
> Good grief do I love this pairing.

"Starscream?" Windblade asked, her wings dropping slightly as she entered her room. The lights overhead were off, and Starscream sat at her desk, his legs crossed and position casual. He turned her sword handle over in his hand, focused and ignoring her presence. The Cityspeaker clutched the replacement soldering iron to her chest, and stood straighter. "May I help you with something?"

"This is a fascinating little sword you have," Starscream said. He rubbed his thumb along the hilt of the sword, and held the mainteance hatch up with his finger. The delicate internals, that Windblade had prepped for repairs after it had been damaged in a training session with Chromia glistened in the air. Starscream tapped the hatch closed. "It’s more of a conduit than a sword."

Windblade glanced at her door controls and casually locked it in the ‘open’ position, before stepping into the room. Her wings cast shadows from the light in the doorway, showing Starscream’s hands but hiding his face. Windblade moved until he was fully in the light, stopping a respectable three feet away from the Ruler of Cybertron, before speaking. “It’s both. I generate the power with my turbines, and it feeds the energy blade of the sword.”

"So the weapon is useless in anyone’s hands but yours," Starscream said, his lips quirking at the side. He casually tossed it back on the work desk, rattling the loose screws. Windblade bit the edge of her lip, and dropped her hands at her side. Starscream pushed the chair back and stood, stretching his wings out. "A beautiful design. There’s nothing better than knowing you’re safe, even if the enemy were to steal your weapon."

"It’s a part of me, the same way I imagine that your swords in your arms are part of you," Windblade said. And at the moment, it was a sword she needed to fix—Windblade was never going to make the mistake of landing on it after Chromia threw her again—and Windblade had no idea how long Starscream had been here, or what he’d done to it. She looked up at the elected official, and forced her wings straight to attention. "Forgive my speaking freely, Starscream, but did you need something?"

"No, nothing in particular," Starscream said. He propped his hand on the desk and leaned heavily on the edge, tilting the table top enough to roll a screw off. It bounced on the floor, coming to a stop under Windblade’s heel. "Just thought I’d come say hello and see how you were doing. Wouldn’t want Metroplex’s keeper to be overworked or unhappy would we?"

"I’m fine," Windblade said. She leaned down to pick up the screw, and walked to the desk to place it back on the table. Starscream did not move out of her way, and remained a few inches from her side. Windblade picked up her sword, and glanced at the closed hatch, wishing she had x-ray vision. "It’s work that I enjoy."

"Good, good," Starscream said, looming over her shoulder to look at her sword again. She could feel the heat from his body as warm metal brushed against hers. "It’s nice when people enjoy their work."

"Nice?" She asked. Windblade put her sword back on the table, desperate to open it up and see if he’d done something to it. Starscream had to have done something to it. Windblade tapped her fingers on the table. "Just nice?"

"Would you prefer pleasant? Admirable? Respectable?" Starscream turned, crossing his arms across his chest and half-sitting on the table. He leaned forward, nearly pressing their noses together. "I’m sure I could come up with an adjective eloquent enough to your liking, if you’d prefer?"

"Admirable was a good one," Windblade replied, ignoring the way her wings twitched and his red eyes burned so close to hers. She would not move. She would not back away. He was only the ruler of the—Windblade dropped her wings down, but straightened her back. Fine. Respect, but not submission. Compromise. Windblade cleared her throat and put a hand on her chest, bowing slightly. "Though ‘Nice’ was accurate. I merely wanted you to elaborate on the statement."

Instead of answering her, Starscream picked up her sword again and tossed it from one hand to the other. He flicked one of the little blades in the center, spinning it around. Windblade’s lips turned to a frown against her will, and glared at his hands handling her sword. His fingers glanced over the metal, delicate but with a rough edge. That was a piece of her that he was fondling.

Windblade grabbed her sword handle back, and held it to the other side of her, her turbines heating up and spinning against her will.

Starscream stared at his empty hands for a moment before chuckling and resting his hand on Windblade’s forearm. His touched burned, as much on fire as his eyes. “Forgive me, I couldn’t help myself. I dabble in a bit of engineering and weapon’s design in my free time.”

Windblade looked at the weapon she’d snatched from Starscream’s hands and felt her insides drop. What was she doing? He was the ruler of the planet. She was a guest. What would happen if she insulted him? What he forced her to leave? Then what would become of Metroplex?

Windblade drew her hands to her chest, clutching at the sword and bowing her head. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to be so rude, but it’s in a delicate state and I don’t want to—”

"Yes, yes," Starscream waved her off and squeezed her arm. He tipped her head back up by the chin, and smiled a crooked grin that warped across his face. "Didn’t want me to muck up your repairs on accident, am I right?"

"Yes," Windblade said. She lowered the sword back to the desk, but kept her hand firmly around the handle. "That’s right."

"Then no hard feelings," Starscream said. He put his hand over hers on the hilt, and drew a circle with his forefinger on the back of her hand. "Be a shame if something were to happen to it and ruin that pretty blade of yours."

It felt good; his hand on hers.

Windblade’s wings rose to full height, and her voice was hoarse. “If you didn’t need anything else, I’d very much like to finish these minor repairs, so that I can continue to help with Metroplex’s major ones.”

"Naturally." Starscream squeezed her hand hard, leaning forward so that their noses brushed. "Wouldn’t want to keep you from work."

"Please leave," Windblade whispered.

"Suit yourself," Starscream answered. He was across the room in a blink, leaving Windblade’s body chilled from the lack of heat. Starscream didn’t bother to look over his shoulder as he removed Windblade’s lock controls on her door. It snapped shut behind him as he left, cutting the flow of air off in the room.

Windblade clutched her sword to her chest, and counted to ten until she could no longer hear his footsteps outside of her room. Windblade held the weapon out in front of her, staring at her hand and where he had touched it. Windblade bit her lip, and activated her turbines to bring the blade to life in the dark room.

It worked perfectly.


End file.
